Bust a Groove (2!) Midnight Madness
by Blue Dog
Summary: I love Hiro. don't you? IT seems that everyone does. Poor Hiro.
1. Default Chapter

(all bust a groove chars one and two are © to enix.) ((late night intoxication of BAG forgive me))  
  
The night was calm, and a light breeze blowing along the balcony of Hiro's box- sized apartment. The smoke from his cigarette swirled with the wind and dissipated in the distance, Hiro leaning up against his apartment wall. The balcony was barely enough to fit him, loosely clad in a pair of old, worn jeans and an undershirt. His feet were bare. The fan from his computer hummed quietly inside, idle and asleep, the speakers purring with Donna Summer's sultry voice. He flicked the remains of his cigarette over the balcony and wandered back inside, trying to walk lightly as to not wake the people sleeping in the apartment below him. He sat down at his computer and shook his mouse to wake it up, cranking the speakers higher. His fingers moved with natural velocity around the keyboard. AIM dinged.  
  
FireBoy919: Heya Hiro. How'd your date go?  
  
Hiro flinched.  
  
DancinHiro: It went great.  
  
He lied through his keyboard. Ding.  
  
FireBoy919: You are such a pimp. I can hardly handle one chick at a time, much less three. Way to go. Any action?  
  
Hiro grit his teeth. He had never gone on any date. A matter of fact, no woman, (save his mother) had stepped into his apartment in years.  
  
DancinHiro: Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. You'll never know. ^.~  
  
He slapped up an away message and leaned further back into his seat, the old swivel chair groaning. He tapped his fingers idly on the keyboard. "Some day," he muttered to himself. His fingers shook for another cigarette. "Some day." He pulled a cig out of a nearby loose carton and lit it, puffing away mechanically. He glanced at his cheap wall clock. 12:05 AM. "Shit. I have to work tomorrow." He turned off his computer and lay his half finished cigarette on the ashtray, unfolding his futon, and lying down on the creaking springs. His back popped painfully. "Ugh.." He pulled off his undershirt and tossed it onto the doorknob, and flicked off the light. 


	2. Empaty

His eyes had just begin to shut when there was a loud rapping upon the door. He turned over to ignore it. "I know you're in there.!" Hiro groaned and stood, groggily lumbering towards the door. He opened the door the tinest bit. A tall dashing blonde woman stood outside, wringing a policemans' hat in her hands. "Let me in?" Hiro's face pinched and he nodded stiffly, shutting the door to undo the deadlock, and then opening it for her. "W-what happened?" Kelly sidled in, her hips swinging not-so-subtly, setting herself down on his un-made futon. She continued wringing her hat, nervously. "Strike and I, we um. You know. Had a fight." Hiro re-lit his half dead cigarette and sucked a long drag, his hair slightly messy. He groaned, irked, and disappeared into the bathroom. His voice echoed slightly. "What about?" He hastily combed his hair back into place, failing to conceal the hiss of aerosol hairspray. Kelly put the hat on her lap and leaned forward, trying to sneak a peak at Hiro's progress. He retreated deeper into the recesses of the bathroom. "I-I don't really wanna talk about it, Hiro-kun." He emerged from the bathroom, his hair perfect, per usual. He sat down on the other corner of the futon and tossed the cigarette butt into his ashtray. He diverted his gaze from her milky smooth exposed thighs, and stared at his feet instead. Oh no, he mused. Hang nail a'comin'. His hands shook. "So.. uh.. why'd you come here? Instead of you know, going to a club or, bugging your girl-friends or something, girly like that." She scootched towards him, her shoulder brushing against his. His body stiffened upon contact. Rigor mortis. Her full lips brushed against his ear as she whispered, smooth with lip gloss. "I wanted to spend quality time with you, Hiro." She let her well manicured fingers trail down his collarbone, and Hiro felt as though there were streams of smoke screaming from his ears. His face went deep crimson. Her hand trailed down the line of his abdominals and along the zipper of his worn out jeans. Hiro's foot kicked out.  
  
"YouknowIreallygottagoIthinkIleftmystoveoninmycarandImightlightmydogonfireif Idon'tturnitoffsobye!!!" He stood and hopped out the window, shirtless and shoeless, out of the apartment and down the fire escape, the color in his cheeks rapidly fading the farther he got from Kelly. He slid into his corvette Mako Shark (ooo babeh! Gimme corvette!) and lay his head on the steering wheel. "God oh god oh god.." He took several deep breaths, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a cell phone. He thumbed through numbers. Heat, he won't fail me. He dialed quickly. The phone rang seven times before a breathless heat answered the phone. "Hello?!" Heat barked. He obviously wasn't too happy answering the phone. A woman's voice rang shrilly in the background. "Heat, hurrrreeeeeeyyy upppp." "Shut up, bitch!!" Hiro hung up the phone. "Okay.. uh.." He flipped through more numbers. "Strike?.. no. He'll kill me. Michael?." He shuddered involuntarily. One number left. He dialed. "Kitty?.." 


	3. Ugghhh...

His fingers trembled over the rubber numbers. Kitty. Her name was honey upon his lips, sweet and warm. His hands shook. He shut his eyes, her image seemingly imprinted on the inside of his eyelids, drinking her in. The phone rang, once, twice. 

            "Hello?" 

Hiro's voice caught in his throat. Kitty stared at her phone for a moment, and repeated.

"Hello?" Hiro hurriedly hung up. He heaved a long sigh. Sleep in the car, tonight. He laid the top back and tilted his seat back, lighting a cigarette. He shut his eyes, taking a puff and falling into blissful sleep. 

*            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *           

"I don't know what it is," Kitty mused over the phone. It was the next morning, late, perhaps eleven. She was speaking with Michael, close friend and instructor. "Someone keeps calling my house at all hours of the night, Michael. Do you think its Rumiko?" 

Michael, on the other end of the line, twisted the phone cord around his finger, his television blaring in the background.

"Honey, they put her away long ago. No way she'd be able to call you now." 

Kitty bit her lip and maneuvered around her counter to lie down on her couch. She laid her head back and sighed with frustration.

"Well, there's simply no other explanation. Who would just hang up on me like that? It happens way too often for it just to be a prank caller, and my caller ID doesn't pick it up." She put one hand on her forehead. "It's driving me nuts, Michael, it really is." 

Michael glanced at his watch. 

"Look girly, I'd love to chat but I simply do *not* have the time. I'll talk to you later, alright? See you tonight at seven pm sharp, as usual. Bye Kitty!" He hung up before she had the chance to say her goodbyes to him. Unphased, she hung up her phone and stood, unplugging it from the phone jack. _No more calls._ She grabbed a towel and walked to shower. 

Meanwhile. 

Hiro had just begun to wake up. To his horror, the sun had risen, and his hair was ::gasp:: undone. He sat up barely enough to see over his car door and outside, to make sure no one was in the parking lot, and then ran like mad up the fire escape and back into his room. Kelly was making slow progress towards the bathroom when a peach and blue blur cut her off, the door slamming in her face. It took a moment to register.

"… Heeeeeyyyy…" She rubbed her eyes, and thumped her fist on the door. "HEY!"  Hiro opened the door just a crack, a brown pupil glimmering. 

".. What." Kelly growled. 

"Lemme in. I need to shower."

"No, busy. Hair." 

Kelly crossed her arms over, or rather, under, her massive chest.

"Fine. But BE QUICK."

There was a smatter of mumblings from within the bathroom, and she heard the water running. She retired onto the futon, flipping on the television. She had gone through two made-for-tv movies before he emerged from the bathroom, every hair in place. She looked up. "Holy god, he emerges." 

"Beauty takes time," he sassed, and he squeezed past her to get to his closet. She rolled her eyes and disappeared into the bathroom. He made and folded up his futon, in turn unfolding an ironing board from the wall. He randomly grabbed a pair of white slacks from his closet and proceeded to iron creases into them. Kelly was singing some indiscriminate eighties song in ugly falsetto. Hiro turned on his stereo, but could not drown her out.. He shrugged and slid out of his dank jeans and into nice, white, freshly ironed slacks. Kelly was just stepping out of the shower as there was a knock at the door. Hiro checked his clothes for tiny imperfections, found none, and opened the door. 

"Hello..?"

Strike's wide frame filled the door. His voice was a deep rumbling baritone, slick with intravenous threat. 

"I heard Kelly crashed here."

Hiro's blood pressure leaped. Sun danced off of Strike's two, fully exposed automatics. He loosened his collar and gave a sleazy nervous smile.

"I wouldn't know, Strike, I was out." 

Strike's eyes danced behind big, obnoxious sunglasses. Kelly had just freshly emerged from the shower, donning one of Hiro's undershirts. He lifted his glasses to show Hiro that Kelly was there, and he knew it. Kelly glanced up.

"Oh," she tried to hide the fact that she was extremely happy to see that he cared. "It's YOU." 

Strike tossed Hiro out of the way like a rag doll. The once primped disco-er landed in a heap in the sink. He thundered over to Kelly and slung an arm around her, mumbling something heartfelt and incoherent. They left together. Hiro tried to pry himself out of the sink, to no avail.

"Ugghhhhh…."


End file.
